


Come With Me

by writeitininkorinblood



Series: I'll Pray For You [7]
Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Date Night, Fluff, M/M, Picnic, this is just Gawain and Lancelot being all gay and soft with each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26452486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: Gawain wants to give Lancelot the best first date he can, in the middle of a refugee camp and a war, and for once everything goes to plan.
Relationships: Gawain | The Green Knight/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Series: I'll Pray For You [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870960
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	Come With Me

Considering Gawain had grown up with Nimue following him around like a besotted puppy, seven years younger and rather in awe of him, it was somewhat of a change to have her scrutinising him while holding arguably the most powerful sword in all of history.

“You’re telling me you want to break one of the camp’s rules?” she asked him.

Gawain wasn’t intimidated.  
“Yes,” he admitted.  
“Rules you helped write, and that exist to protect all the people here?”  
“Yes.”  
“And you realise that if anyone else at camp was asking I would immediately tell them no. So if I didn’t say the same to you now then it would be an abuse of power on behalf of the both of us?” she pointed out.

That had Gawain flinching. He was trying to set a good standard, lead by example, and she had a point that circumventing the rules was hardly the work of a leader. Especially since his reasons for doing so were far more self-indulgent than necessary.

“Fine,” he sighed, surrendering “I understand. I won’t-”

“Which is why this conversation never happened,” Nimue interrupted with a smile. “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission and you deserve a night off. Just be careful. If the two of you get kidnapped or killed then we’re all in trouble.”

Gawain pulled her into a tight hug, grateful she was his little sister, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you,” he said, the words deeper and heavier than he’d intended. He really did need a night off.

*

To say Cora mocked him when he went to the kitchens and pleaded with her to be allowed some wine and fruits and cheeses may have been a little bit of an exaggeration, but she definitely threw in some gratuitous teasing along with the small parcel of food she put together for him once he admitted he had someone he wanted to spoil for the evening. He was careful with his use of pronouns, not wanting to make it obvious that it was a man he was taking out since he was pretty sure it would then be clear it was Lancelot, who certainly wasn’t ready for that kind of public announcement. When Cora told him to ‘treat this girl well, Green Knight,’ he didn’t correct her. That was a task for another day.

*

The small food parcel went into Gawain’s bag as soon as he got back to his tent. Lancelot hadn’t returned from the field yet and this was supposed to be a surprise. Attempting to pass the rest of the evening as normal, kissing Lancelot hello when he came home and spending a couple of peaceful hours in each other’s presence, was harder than Gawain had expected. He wanted this to go well. From what he could tell, Lancelot had never been on a date before, which added far more pressure to his plans.

“Is something wrong?” Lancelot asked, not an hour after he’d made it back. “You’re… jumpy.”

Gawain swallowed the build-up of nerves that choked his throat. He’d taken men to bed countless times before, but it was far rarer that he courted anyone and he was so anxious to do this right.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “Just a lot on my mind.”

It, thankfully, wasn’t technically a lie. He hated lying to the man he loved.

“If you want to talk, perhaps I can help?” Lancelot offered gently, and Gawain only loved him more.

“No, it’s okay. It’s all just trivial anyway. I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” he tried, hoping that would be sufficient to deter Lancelot from further questioning.

His lover didn’t look entirely convinced, but he decided not to push the matter and trusted Gawain would come to him if he ever needed him.

As tired as he was, Gawain didn’t let himself drift off to sleep once they had climbed into bed together that evening. He waited until he couldn’t hear any footsteps or voices outside, and until every torch and campfire had been extinguished and no longer shone light through the canvas. The last thing he wanted was to get caught breaking the camp rules, since he could hardly explain that Nimue had given him permission to do so.

Lancelot was sleeping curled up against his side, wrapped in a blanket and seemingly peaceful. It was almost hard to wake him when he was getting rest he definitely needed but Gawain really thought he would enjoy what he had planned. Once he was sure the camp was silent, he put that plan into action.

“Hey,” Gawain whispered, shaking his lover gently.

Lancelot mumbled something unintelligible, barely half-awake, and blinked sleepily. When he was outside in the wilderness, he’d be lucid in a fraction of a second at the crack of a branch a hundred paces away, but sleeping beside Gawain was safe and warm and so much harder to pull himself back from.

Gawain smiled fondly at his drowsy boyfriend, kissing him gently in an attempt to rouse him.

“Can you come with me?” he asked.

At those words, Lancelot was wide awake. He sat up so quickly that his forehead would have collided with Gawain’s nose if he’d been sleeping with anyone with slower reflexes, and was immediately looking around for any sign of a threat.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, a hundred terrifying scenarios going through his head. Was it the camp? Was it Percival?

“Nothing,” Gawain promised and really, knowing Lancelot, he should have started with that. “Do you trust me?”

Lancelot looked at him, searching his eyes for a long moment but clearly not finding what he was looking for. Instead of arguing, he just nodded.

“Yes.”

“Then put on a shirt and come with me,” Gawain smiled, raising his eyebrow to offer the challenge because if there was one way to get Lancelot to do something, it was that.

Common sense said they should get fully dressed, taking the time to lace up armour just in case they met any Red Paladins or enemy raiders or wild animals, but Gawain didn’t want to ruin this with the reminder that the world wasn’t a perfect place. It was stupid and reckless and Nimue would kill him for it if she found out, but they donned nothing more than shirts and trousers and sword belts, because they weren’t such complete idiots that they’d head out weaponless.

Lancelot hadn’t asked another question until Gawain was untying the entrance to the tent and shouldering a bag that laid beside it.

“Where are we going?” he tried, not expecting an answer. He was happy to follow Gawain anywhere, but even blind trust could not erase his curiosity.  
“You’ll see,” Gawain grinned, unfairly cocky now his plan was starting to unfold just as planned.

When they stepped outside, he was even more reassured. Just like he’d been tracking, the moon was full and bright and kept company by a soft scattering of stars. It was just the light they were going to need, without the risk of a flickering torch being spotted. He reached out his hand to Lancelot and pulled him close for a kiss when he took it. Then, without any more explanation, he tugged Lancelot in the direction of the place he had in mind.

It was all too easy to sneak out of a camp when you had designed the security plans and Gawain was confident no one had seen them go as they headed into the woods, parallel to the trail used to get down to the stream, but further into the dense forest. The light from the moon was filtered through a layer of leaves and shone less brightly on the uneven ground than it had on the clearing at camp, but neither of them tripped. They were too at home amongst the trees.

It didn’t take long for Gawain to find the location he’d had in mind all this time, and he couldn’t help but feel triumphant when he felt Lancelot squeeze his fingers to see it. The clearing wasn’t huge, but it felt better that way, more intimate. The gap in the canopy had encouraged grass and flowers to grow across the ground beneath and it left the whole space feeling more like a personal meadow, delicate and sweet. The intense light the moon was giving off lit it more than enough to see the way Lancelot’s eyes traced over the clearing, soft with affection that Gawain would find such a place and think to take him there. He didn’t protest as he was led to the centre of the grass and Gawain dropped his hand to rummage in the bag he’d brought.

There was a blanket laid out and a small parcel of food being unwrapped before Lancelot realised that this wasn’t just a moonlit stroll, but a picnic.

“You’re impossible,” he breathed, so endlessly surprised by every facet of Gawain he got to see as they were revealed to him one by one. This one, soft and loving and domestic, was very welcomed.

“You deserve to be wooed, Lancelot of the Ash Folk,” Gawain explained, pulling a wineskin and two ceramic cups from the bag. “And I hope you allow me to give it my best try.”

“You already have me, you do not have to woo me.”  
“Perhaps I want to make certain that you will chose to stay.”

Lancelot reached for Gawain’s hand, intercepting it from arranging the berries Cora had given him, and pulled it to his lips to kiss it reverently.

“As long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

They drank and ate lazily, as if they had all the time of the world despite the war that still raged from coast to coast. Cora’s generous donation to their evening had been chosen with care and was the best of what she’d been able to find in her stores for the Green Knight and his mysterious beau. Normally Gawain would have protested and left the best for someone else, but he wanted to give Lancelot everything so for once he made an exception.

Lancelot leaned back once he’d drained the last of the wine from his cup and set it down, his hands finding the grass beyond the blanket and sinking slightly amongst the blades. He didn’t realise he was relaxed enough to let his guards down so much that the colour seeped into his skin until he saw Gawain staring. And sure enough, the tips of his fingers were already green and it was spreading across his knuckles.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, blushing and shaking his hands until the colour faded and he was back in control. Even now, with Father Carden dead and his allegiance to the Paladins long-revoked, he struggled to come to terms with the fact that his gifts were not curses.

“No, don’t apologise,” Gawain protested. “I’ve just hardly ever seen you do it. What is it, exactly?”

He asked the question gently, hoping Lancelot could tell that answering it wasn’t necessary unless he felt comfortable, but the Ash Man knew that of everyone he’d ever met, Gawain was the last person who was ever going to judge him. Explaining it seemed somehow more difficult that just demonstrating, so he pulled the corner of the blanket back and rested his palm amongst the grass. When he focused on it, it took no time at all and the green that started at his fingertips quickly covered his hand, racing up his arm under his shirt and creeping across his neck and up to his cheek.

It was extremely impressive camouflage and Gawain couldn’t help but be impressed, reaching out to brush his thumb against the markings. They felt the same as the skin always felt underneath his fingertips and disappeared just as quickly as they’d arrived once Lancelot moved his hand back to the blanket.

“That a useful skill to have and not use,” Gawain observed.  
Lancelot nodded.  
“Yes, but it’s a very clearly Fey skill. They didn’t want me making it obvious I was demon-born. Tracking can be explained away as a mundane, albeit well-practised skill. This, not so much. Usually I have no issues keeping it suppressed,” he smiled wryly. “It seems that you’re the exception, Green Knight, as you so often are.”  
Gawain returned the smile, grateful that he was the one person Lancelot trusted enough to let in, beyond those walls so tall and so thick it would take armies to break them down. If his lover was going to be this relaxed and this open with him outside the boundaries of the Fey camp, then he’d have to start scheduling a lot more midnight picnics.


End file.
